
CopigM . 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



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BOW STORKS 
INDWn (M7THS 



RAINBOW STORIES 



AND 



INDIAN MYTHS 



BY 

George W. Caldwell, M. D, 

Author of Oriental Rambles, 
The Wizzywab, etc. 



ILLUSTRATED 
BY 



Jane Jefferson Flippen 



Phillip* <fe Van Orden Co. 



*>?£& 



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PRELUDE 

The road to Fairyland, it seems, 

Winds through the magic Land of Dreams; 

The children love to wander there, 

To build their castles in the air. 
Imagination — How it grows 
When we are young, and where it goes 
When we grow up — nobody knows. 



©CI.A525890 



s 

COPYRIGHT 1919 

BY 

GEORGE W. CALDWELL, M. D. 



4 

-4 



CONTENTS 

RAINBOW STORIES. 



Page 

The Flight to Fairyland 1 

The Fairies in the Flowers 15 

Sleepy Eyes 1 7 

How the Stars Came in the Sky 21 

Boomaroar, and the Rainbow 25 

Boomaroar, and the Sea Shells 27 

The Fairy Blackbird 29 

How the Rabbit Lost His Tail 33 

The Discontented Elephant 37 

IN DIAN MYT HS. 

The Blue Lizard 47 

The Rumbling of Tauquitz 51 

How the Road Runner Won His Red Feather 57 

The Prince of Plenty 65 

The Lights of Elsinore 75 

The Stepping Stones 93 

The Echo - 103 



THE FLIGHT TO FAIRYLAND. 

JOHNNIE BOB put aside his book of Fairy Tales, 
and stretched out on the grass. 

"I wonder if there really are Fairies," he mused 
sleepily as he studied the changing forms of the fleecy 
clouds. He could imagine in them armadas of ships 
sailing across the sky, or columns of cavalry, or Roman 
chariot races, or distant seas with islands and moun- 
tainous shores, but nowhere could he make out anything 
that looked at all like a Fairy. "Perhaps they only 
appear when one is asleep. If I close my eyes and keep 
very still, one may come and talk to me." He was silent 
for a long time, but all he could hear was the sighing 
of the breeze in the branches overhead. "I wonder if I 
could understand the Fairy language." 

"I am afraid not," chirped a Cricket who was sawing 
down a grass stem nearby. "Babies use some Fairy 
words, but they forget them when they grow up. To 
learn it well one must go to the Fairy school." 



(i) 



"Do Fairies have to go to school too? I thought they 
were always happy." 

"They like it. They don't need to study. The teacher 
tells them stories." 

"Oh! I would like that. May I go to the Fairy 
school?" 

"Perhaps it can be arranged. Climb on my back, and 
I will take you to Fairyland to see the teacher." 

"Be careful, Johnnie Bob." A Rabbit interrupted in 
a warning voice. "No doubt he means well, but you are 
much too large to ride on a cricket. For one carrot I 
will take you there in a night and the fur of my back 
will keep your feet warm." 

"In that case we had better be going," Johnnie Bob 
replied, "for the night will be very dark." 

"Very dark. Very dark," echoed a mysterious voice 
from the tree overhead. Johnnie Bob looked up. A 
grey Owl perched on a branch was regarding him 
solemnly. "Beware. Beware," continued the Owl, lift- 
ing one foot in appropriate gestures, "Rabbits fall into 
holes, and are hunted by Men. Who sees best at night? 
The Owl, of course. I will take you to Fairyland. I 
know the way. Did you ever wonder where the Owls 
go to in the daytime ?" He closed one eye and whispered 
confidentially, — "Fairyland. And furthermore, I work a 
little magic here and there, now and then. How would 
you like a nice, new pair of feather wings, so that you 
could fly all by yourself ? You would ? Then stand up and 
wiggle your nose while I do the magic." 



(2) 



The Owl braced his legs well apart, and, puffing out 
his chest with a deep breath, hooted : 

"Hoo-o, hoo! Hoohoo, hoo-oo! 
Hoo-o, hoo ! Hoohoo, hoo-oo !" 

There was a sharp rustle of feathers as a pair of 
wings spread out from the sides of Johnnie Bob's arms. 
After flapping them a few times to be sure they were on 
securely, he arose in the air with the Owl, and to- 
gether they flew away towards the far, far East where, 
as everyone knows, is to be found the best kind of magic. 

A wise old bird is the Owl, my dears, 

His tongue is remarkably short, my dears, 

But he has a pair of pointed ears, 

And his eyes are big and blinking ! 
The less he talks, the more he hears ; 
The more he looks, the more appears; 
So he is wise beyond his years, 

For he does a lot of thinking. 

As they soared higher and higher, the earth seemed to 
unroll below them like a great map. They could see 
meadows laid off in squares, rivers meandering through 
the plains, highways tracing a network over the country. 
The cities, villages and towns seemed to pass beneath 
them as they winged their way along. 



(3) 



"You soon will fly as well as I 
If you will keep on trying," 
The Owl remarked, "and I deny 
There's better fun than flying. 

How slow the autos seem to us — 

How still the ocean shipping. 
I wouldn't ride a motor bus ; 
I like the fun of dipping. 

It is a rather reckless thing, 
But there's no greater pleasure 

Than sliding down on slanting wing, 
To right myself at leisure. 

We watch the people stop and stare 
With envy in their faces, 

But few, I think, will ever dare 
To try to take our places." 



(4) 



"I have never been afraid of falling/' Johnnie Bob 
replied, "for 

In my wonderful dreams I can fly 

If I try. 

When dangers assail me 

I spring in the air 
As light as a feather 

With never a care; 
And flapping my wings 
To get used to the things, 
I fly over rivers 

And over the seas — 
Above the green medows 

And forests with ease, 
And when I would rest 

At the close of the day 
I float like a bubble. 
It's really no trouble 
Escaping from Injuns, 

Or tigers, or men, 
Who swiftly pursue 

Me in anger, and then 
They can't beat me, nor eat me, 

Nor cheat me, and when 
They see me escape 

In that curious way, 



(6) 



They stop and they stare 
Right up in the air 
And, my, how they glare 

With their bad, cruel eyes 

Opened wide in surprise. 
But that doesn't fret me, 
They never can get me 

For I know they can't fly. 

They don't even try, 

And that may be why, 
No matter who chases, 
I laugh in their faces 

In my wonderful dreams 

I can fly. 

I never knew I could fly 

Till one night 
I dreamed that a Tiger pursued, 

And in fright 
I ran through the forest 

As fast as I could. 
The Tiger got nearer — 

So on through the wood 
I lengthened my stride 
To steps a mile wide; 



(6) 



But faster and faster 

That Tiger Cat came. 
He really was hungry 

And I was his game ; 
So, faster and faster 

I ran till I found 
I could jump over houses 

And light on the ground 
With only the tiniest 

Jar from the leap — 
It's strange how much lighter 

One is when asleep. 
Then I came to a cliff 

At the top of a hill, 
But I never stopped, 

I jumped with a thrill 
Of delight to escape 

From that terrible Cat, 

Who thereafter sat 
On the top of the hill, 

And yodeled and spat. 
Then I found I could fly 

By just flapping my arms, 
And sail like an Eagle 

Away from alarms. 



(7) 




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(8) 



And later that night 

When I woke up in bed 
I hid in the blankets 

And covered my head. 
In the morning I said 

To my Mother, 'I know 
Why Birds are so happy 

And sing as they go. 
I know so much more 

Of the dear little things 
Than I did, and I know 

They're so proud of their wings 
That the melodies burst 

In a flood from their throats, 
And fill all the heaven 

With musical notes. 
I'll tell you a secret — 

There's joy in the sky — 
Dear Mother, I know, 

For in dreams I can fly/ 

The hours passed in pleasant conversation, and in the 
proper time, which is in the rose colored dawn, they 
came to the Land of Dreams. 



(9) 



There's a beautiful, wonderful 

Land of Dreams — 
Of Childhood Ideals— 

Where everything seems 
So vivid and perfect, 

We feel very sure 
The Castles of Hope 

That we build will endure- 
Where friendships are lasting, 

Unselfish and strong, 
And not bought for money, 

Nor sold for a song; 
Where Love doesn't die — 

Isn't killed by a word 
That is spoken in anger; 

Where lies are not heard — 
Where Love is not balanced 

By jewels and gold; 
Where all things are given 

For Love and not sold ; 
Where only the welfare 

Of others is sought, 
And we joy in the giving, 

And cherish the thought 
That Love is perfection — 

And all else is naught — 
In that beautiful, wonderful 

Land of Dreams. 



(10) 



They flew under a rainbow, and perched in a Curlicue 
tree in the Fairies' Garden of True Love. 

It was a peaceful spot. No weeds with thorns or 
prickles were allowed to grow. Only the flowers of 
Good Thoughts and Kind Wishes were planted there, 
and they were cultivated with patience and forbearance, 
watered with the tears of sympathy, and often warmed 
by the sunny smiles of forgiveness. 

In that enchanted land above — 
That Land of Smiles and Friendly Love — 
The soul destroying acid, Hate, 
Turns honey sweet ; and there the gate 
To friendship's garden stands ajar, 
And in it thornless roses are. 
No vain regrets, nor dull despair, 
Nor torturing grief can enter there ; 
For no one wants what is another's, 
Nor helps himself by hurting others. 

When Johnnie Bob looked around the magic garden 
he was speechless with wonder. 

The first thing he saw was a Fairy school teacher 
standing on a sunflower ringing a blubell to call the 
Fairies to school. Just beyond was the beginning of a 
rainbow up which the Fairies were running because the 
school room was at the top. Johnnie Bob jumped down 
from the curlicue tree and tried to join them, but the 



(ii) 



rainbow kept moving away. "Hoot, hoot!" called the 
Owl. "Come back at once. You cannot climb the rain- 
bow unless you wear the magic sandals." Johnnie Bob 
hurried back and was introduced to the Fairy school 
teacher. The Owl explained that he was a good boy, 
that he never took things that did not belong to him or 
told an untruth, and that he was willing to be punished 
when he did wrong, and was generous to his playmates. 
The teacher replied : 

"If you are as good as your playmates say 
You may join the school for a single day; 
So put on these magic sandals and 
Run up the rainbow as fast as you can." 

"Now," said the Owl, "you are safe in Fairyland, and 
I will fly back to my pine tree before it gets too light. If 
you don't mind, I will trouble you for the magic wings." 

The wings suddenly vanished. After saying good bye 
the accommodating Owl flew away. 

Johnnie Bob buckled on the magic sandals as the 
teacher directed, and joined the throng of Fairies who 
were running up the rainbow. When they reached the 
very top they all sat down on the edge and let their feet 
hang over. 



(12) 



School began as usual with a song: 

When the evening shades are falling 
And the twinkling stars unveil, 

Children hear the Fairies calling 
Calling them to Fairy dale ; 

Fairydale, that place in Dreamland 

Where the Mother fondly leads them 
When she reads a Fairy tale. 

"Now I will answer your questions," said the teacher, 
"by telling a story. When I am telling a story please do 
not interrupt because that spoils everything. No one 
expects things to be reasonable in Fairyland. What are 
the questions for the day?" 



(13) 




(14) 



THE FAIRIES IN THE FLOWERS. 

Said Johnnie Bob, "I'd like to know 
Why it is that flowers grow 
Red or yellow, blue or white, 
And zuhy their petals close at night." 

"T will answer that," the Fairy replied, "by telling 
X the story of how the flowers came." 

Once upon a time — long before time — the Fairies lived 
in a coral cave in the sea. They were not very happy be- 
cause the water was too cold, so, one day they climbed 
out on the shore to warm themselves in the sun. 

They spent the day playing among the grasses, and 
swinging in the cobwebs, and enjoyed it so much that 
they asked the Queen of the Fairies if she would build 
them a house, and let them stay on the land always. 

The Queen replied that she would be pleased to do 
so, and that she would build them many houses of such 
beauty that Mortals would never be able to equal them. 



(16) 



Then she waved her magic wand over the plants, and 
flower buds began to grow out of them, and as they 
opened she painted them in marvelous colors — red, blue, 
yellow, in all the tints and mixtures, but some she 
allowed to remain pure white. 

Each Fairy selected the flower and color she preferred, 
and went in, and made herself at home. 

Every morning they opened their shutters to let the 
warm sunlight in. At night those who lived in the 
roses, and pansies, and many other kinds left their 
shutters open, because they delighted in going out to 
dance in the moonlight. But the Fairies who lived in the 
poppies closed their shutters up tight, right after supper, 
because they were very, very sleepy little Fairies. 




(16) 



SLEEPY EYES. 

"Teacher dear, can you devise 
A way to close a baby's eyes 
In gentle slumber when they weep 
So much that Father cannot sleep?" 

"Tt /f OTHERS and children everywhere agree that 
IVX there is nothing better for that purpose than 
a lullaby song," said the Fairy. 'I will tell you the story 
of Sleepy Eyes." 

Once upon a time there was a little girl called Sleepy 
Eyes. After an unusually exciting day, when bed- 
time came, strange to say, she was not sleepy at all. 
Her mind was wide awake and her eyes would not stay 
closed. Everything that had happened to her during the 
day recurred to her thoughts time and time again. Try 
as she would she could not sleep. 

So the Mother took her little girl in her arms and 
made herself comfortable in the big rocking chair. She 
pressed her lips to the child's forehead for a few mo- 
ments in silent prayer, and then began softly : 



(17) 




Dear little baby mine close your sweet eyes, 
Angels are watching from up in the skies. 
Mother is guarding you, sleep baby dear, 
No harm shall come to you, Mother is near. 
Lullaby, lullaby, sleep, baby sleep. 

Sleep, little baby mine, snuggle and rest. 
Mother will sing you to sleep in your nest. 
Safe in her loving arms, nothing to fear, 
Sleep, little baby mine, Mother is here. 
Lullaby, lullaby, sleep, baby sleep. 

Sleep, little baby mine, rest your dear head 
Close to your Mother's heart making your bed. 
Fairies will give you a smile for a tear, 
Sleep, little baby mine, Mother is near. 
Lullaby, lullaby, sleep, baby sleep, 
Lullaby, lullaby, sleep, baby sleep — 
Sleep, baby sleep. 




(18) 



Sleepy Eyes snuggled her cheek against her Mother's 
breast. She was such a tired baby. Her eyelids were 
too heavy to be lifted — her hands and feet too comfortable 
to be moved. Her rose-bud lips parted in a faint smile. 
Her Mother's voice, so sweetly soothing, sounded further 
and further away. Her eyelids grew heavier, and heavier. 
Her feet grew heavier and heavier. Her arms relaxed 
and fell away from her Mother's neck. It was so sweet 
to rest. She was so drowsy and sleepy. She was sink- 
ing — sinking — sinking in a downy cushion. She was so 
drowsy and sleepy — so sleepy — so sleepy — sleepy — 
asleep. 

Her Mother laid little Sleepy Eyes tenderly in her 
bed, and went out on tiptoes. 




HOW THE STARS CAME IN THE SKY. 

"Please, Fairy teacher, tell me why 
At night the stars come in the sky, 
And is it true the Fairies keep 
The babies smiling in their sleep?" 

i HT s O answer that," the Fairy replied, "I must tell you 
JL certain facts about babies that are extra special 
Fairy secrets, not to be mentioned to anyone." 

Once upon a time — long before time — the Fairies lived 
in the roses and poppies, and other flowers, and ate honey 
all day long. 

Some of them ate so much honey that they grew 
bigger and bigger, and sweeter and sweeter until they 
came into the world of mortals as little babies. 

The Fairies who did not grow up took delight in 
playing with their brothers and sisters who had become 
babies. They would dance on their necks, and wiggle 
their toes to make them laugh so that the Gigglums 
could not get them. 



(21) 



Did you ever hear about the Gigglums? No? Well, 
they were distant cousins of the Fairies, and lived next 
door to Fairyland. They were jolly little Gnomes — round 
as jelly rolls — and always laughing. In fact, they laughed 
so much that their eyelids grew together. They had 
big wiggly ears, and wore pillows on their feet so the 
children would not hear them coming. 

Nothing amused a Gigglum as much as a crying baby. 
Whenever a child began to cry the Gigglums would ap- 
pear one by one. Where they came from no one knows, 
but they would stand in a line and wiggle their ears 
and listen. If the child cried again they would wiggle 
their ears, and trot nearer on their pillow feet, and 
listen. If the child cried again they would wiggle their 
ears, and trot nearer, and listen. Every time the child 
cried they would wiggle their ears and trot nearer, 
guided only by the sound, because their eyelids were 
grown together. If they could find the crying baby they 
would giggle until they jiggled like jelly, and then they 
would toss that cry baby up and down — up and down — 
up and down until it laughed with them. 

Well, after a time, the babies who had been called back 
up into heaven wanted the Fairies to go up and play 
with them; so, the Queen of the Fairies told Mothers 
and Fathers, and Aunts and Uncles, and Nurses how 
to take care of the babies, and especially, how to tickle 
their necks and wiggle their toes and to make them 
laugh so the Gigglums wouldn't get them; and then all 
the Fairies flew up into heaven. 



(22) 



But the Fairies do not forget the children who are 
on the earth. Every evening, about an hour after sun- 
set, they go up to the other side of the blue curtain that 
is spread over the sky to keep the glories of heaven from 
shining through, and try to look down to the earth. But 
the curtain is so thick that they can't see very well, so, 
they tear little holes in the curtain, and then by putting 
their eyes up close they can see you, and watch over you 
all night while those who love you and care for you in 
the day time are sleeping. 

Grown people call them stars, but children know they 
are the twinkling eyes of Fairies peeping at them through 
the blue curtain of heaven. 




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(23) 




(24) 



BOOMAROAR AND THE RAINBOW. 

Said Johnnie Bob, "Vd like to know 
The meaning of the bright rainbow. 
And do the rain-clouds dry their tears 
For happiness when it appears?" 

ND the Fairy answered : 

Once upon a time — long, long before time — there was 
a Giant called Boomaroar. He was King of the Storms. 
When he was angry he would go roaring across the skies, 
flashing lightning from his eyes, and blowing great rain 
clouds before him. 

One day he filled his buckets and went booming over 
the land in a terrible thunder storm. He dashed the 
water in great floods upon the flowers, and tossed them 
about with the wind of his breath until the Fairies who 
lived in the flowers were nearly drowned. 

They called to the Queen of the Fairies to protect 
them; so, she spread a great arch over the land to keep 
the rain from falling through, and then she painted it red, 
and yellow and blue. 

When Boomaroar saw it he said, "It is a Rainbow/' 
and hurried away as fast as he could, because he knew 
the sun would soon come out. 



(25) 




(88) 



BOOMAROAR, AND THE SEA SHELLS. 

"I walk with Mother on the shore 
And ask her questions by the score, 
But though I ask, she never tells 
Me why there are so many shells." 

«/TTA HAT is a difficult question even for a Mother to 
JL answer," the Fairy replied, because it is a 
special and particular secret which only the Fairies know. 
I will tell you some of the story, but I cannot tell it all 
because it is such a very special secret." 

Once upon a time- — long time before time — Booma- 
roar, King of the Storms, lived far out in the ocean 
where he splashed around playing with the whales. 

He was a gruff and rude sort of a giant. He did not 
like the Queen of the Fairies very well, because she 
made the rainbow. One spring day, while she was 
sleeping in a meadow, he tried to cover her up with 
water. 



(27) 



He slapped the ocean with his big hands, spattering the 
water into the sky, so that it fell in showers for days and 
days. Then he bounced up and down in the ocean to 
make the waves roll over the land, but the Queen of the 
Fairies heard the floods coming, and flying into the 
mountains, stood on her tiptoes on the highest peak. 

The rains fell harder and harder, and the waves dashed 
higher and higher. Boomaroar was so amused that the 
sound of his rumbling rolls of thundering laughter was 
heard for miles and miles. 

The Queen had to do something to protect herself and 
the little Fairies from such a bad giant, so she picked an 
enormous basketful of shells out of the rocks, and poured 
them over the head of Boomaroar until he was almost 
covered up in the ocean. 

He was so surprised that he hurried back to his 
home, and never annoyed the Fairies again. 

Then the Queen spread sand along the seashore to 
keep the salt water in the ocean, and lying down, finished 
her nap, but she never would tell in what kind of rock 
sea shells are found. That is for children to find out. 



(28) 



THE FAIRY BLACKBIRD. 

"Please teacher, will you kindly tell 
About the strange thing that befell 
The little boy who threw a stone, 
And wouldn't let the birds alone" 

"'Tp HAT is a story that every boy should know," the 
X Fairy remarked, "and I hope Johnnie Bob will 
pay special attention." 

Once upon a time— a long time before time — there 
was a little boy who threw stones at birds. He was not 
a really bad boy, but he did not understand birds. 

One day when he was playing Indian, he saw a black- 
bird sitting in a tree singing the only song it knew, and 
trying to make people cheer up. At least, it looked like 
a blackbird, but it was really a Fairy policeman wearing 
a black feather coat with red stripes on the shoulders. 

The boy picked up a stone and threw it, not thinking 
it was a cruel sport. The Fairy flew away to Fairyland, 
and told the other Fairies what the boy had done. They 
decided to teach him to be more kind to the birds. They 
put on black feather coats, and led by the Fairy police- 
man, flew down to the earth. Circling about over the 
boy's head they worked their charm by singing: 



r2«n 



"We sing and we chatter 

The magical words 
To punish the bad boy 

Who bothers the birds. 
Come, Queen of the Fairies, 

And lend us your charms ; 
Come, King of the Fishes, 

And take off his arms! 
Put scales on his stomach, 

And also we wish 
To smooth out his features 

To look like a fish. 
When half a red snapper, 

And half just a boy, 
He won't hurt the blackbirds, 

Nor Fairies annoy; 
So, take off his eyebrows, 

His ears, and his chin — 
And make him confess 

When his Father comes in." 

He heard them chattering, but, thinking it was only 
another flock of birds, he was stooping to pick up a stone 
when a strange thing happened to him. 

His Mother, looking out of the window, saw his face 
when it first began to change. It grew longer and longer. 
His eyes grew rounder and rounder. His mouth grew 
wider and wider, and kept opening and closing as if he 
were trying to say Mamma! Mamma! but not a sound 



(81) 



could he make. She called him into the house. When 
he saw his face in the mirror he was so ashamed that he 
went into a corner and stood with his face to the wall 
until his Father came home. 

Then he told his Father all about it, and promised 
not to harm the birds any more. As soon as he had said 
that the charm was lost, and he changed back to a boy 
again just as he was before, excepting, that forever after, 
he was a good friend to the birds. 

He learned that happiness soon turns to sorrow if 
obtained through causing anguish to others. 




(32) 



HOW THE RABBIT LOST HIS TAIL. 

"/ wonder why the Rabbits fail 
To grow a proper length of tail. 
Was it lost, or left about 
To sit upon, and so worn out?" 

«np HAT is a really sad story," the Fairy remarked, 
J. "especially for the Rabbit. This is the way it 
happened" : 

Once upon a time — a long time before time — there 
was a Mrs. Rabbit who lived in a hollow stump. She 
earned her living by doing the washing for the Hedge- 
hog family. No one else would do it because they used 
so many pins in their clothes instead of buttons. She 
was a patient little Mother. 

One morning before she went to work she told her 
little boy Jack that he was not to go out of the house 
until she returned. She left him a carrot, which as 
everyone knows, is the best kind of a lunch for a Rabbit. 



(33) 



Well, at four o'clock in the afternoon, or, possibly a 
quarter past four, Jack, being lonesome, ventured into 
the front yard, thinking his Mother would never know 
anything about it. After playing there for some time, 
and finding it so pleasant outside, he hopped cautiously 
into the road. No one was to be seen in either direction. 
He went a little further and lifted up his ears, but could 
hear nothing but the chirp of the crickets, and the songs 
of the birds. Then he hopped down the road without 
fear. 

After a time he came to a grove, and in the shade of 
a big tree he found a cloth spread on the grass. On it 
were all sorts of good things to eat. 





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(34) 



Jack's eyes brightened, and his nose wiggled in antici- 
pation. He waved his tail in delight. I should have 
mentioned before that he was very proud of his long 
fluffy tail, and brushed it carefully every night. 

Jack sat down before a plate, and nibbled at an ear of 
corn. He did not care much for that. He had corn at 
home. At the next plate he ate a sandwich. At the next 
plate he ate a big slice of chocolate cake ; and then, I am 
sorry to say — he ate up every bit of the vanilla ice cream. 

He wiped his lips with a napkin, rubbed his round 
tummy, and felt so satisfied and drousy that he hopped 
into the grass and fell asleep. 







^a*»" ■ — w- 



(35) 



When the people came back from hunting, and saw 
what had happened, they groaned in dismay. 

"O — o — o — ! Who has been eating our luncheon?" 

This awakened Jack, but he was so soggy with choco- 
late cake, and so oozy with vanilla ice cream, that he 
only lazily lifted one ear. When he heard their angry 
words he opened his eyes, and seeing strange people, he 
realized at once that his Mother was right; so, he jumped 
up and bounded for home. 

One of the hunters saw him, and raised his gun. 

Jack jumped sideways as quickly as he could, as 
his Mother had taught him to do under such circum- 
stances, but his long, fluffy tail was shot right off. He 
did not stop to pick it up, but dashed home to his Mother 
who wrapped up the stump in corn silk. 

If, someday, you should happen to see a Rabbit with 
a short tail — one just long enough to wiggle — you will 
know it is probably the same Rabbit who ran away to 
play in the road. 



(86) 



THE DISCONTENTED ELEPHANT. 

"Although I try, I really can't 
Comprehend the Elephant. 
Will you tell me why he grows 
So short of legs and long of nose?" 

THERE have been many explanations and apolo- 
gies for the elephant," remarked the Fairy. 
"He knows he is not gracefully built and it causes 
him to appear embarrassed and self-conscious. 

Once upon a time, a long time ago, Elephants were as 
handsome and graceful as any other animal. They had 
nice kind faces like Pigs, slender bodies, and long thin 
legs like Nanny Goats. 

It was a pretty sight in those old days to see the Ele- 
phants dancing in the meadows, or leaping from crag to 
crag in search of the delicatessens on which they fed. 



(37) 



Well, among them was one petulant baby elephant who 
was extremely discontented. Nothing pleased him. He 
ajways wanted something else. He couldn't make up his 
mind what it was, but he was sure it was something 
else. In fact he couldn't make up his mind on anything, 
or at least, it wouldn't stay made up. 

He was constantly changing his mind. If he started 
forward he would change his mind and step backward. 
He was so restless that his Mother suspected adenoids. 

He had no strength of character, and his feet hurt. 

His Father warned him that if he did not stop moving 
forward and backward, he would have to give him an 
extra head so he could see where he was going. 

However, I am sorry to say, this baby Elephant paid no 
attention to advice ; so, one day after he had tipped over 
the piano by backing into it, his Father took off his tail 
and put a head in its place. 

It is really not wise to interfere so much with Nature, 
and in this case it nearly caused a sad tragedy, for the 
baby Elephant started forward from each end at the 
same time and pulled his body out like a measuring 
worm. His Father was so afraid he would pull himself 
apart, that he hastily took off the extra head and put 
back the tail. Then he squeezed him up together as 
tightly as he could — in fact, he rather overdid the matter, 
for the Elephant has appeared to be too short and thick 
ever since. 



<S8) 



i'iu 'm m m m i 






^ m . mv .* «.; m. m m \a. ;\ g , " i ■■■ ■ r h 
r/TTTTr/, >%W»r>H7 i » »x *>* 




(39) 



This baby Elephant had another unpleasant habit—' 
that of lifting up one foot and then the other, and 
swinging from side to side. This, of course, made a lot 
of noise, for up to that time Elephants had long, graceful 
legs with hoofs on their feet like horses. 

The noise annoyed the oysters who lived in the flat 
below so much that they turned over and over in their 
beds. The Sword Fish became so vexed, because he 
could not sleep in the day time, that he went up and sawed 
the baby Elephant's feet right off with his nose. 

Ever since then Elephants have had to go around walk- 
ing on stumpy legs with pads on the bottoms instead of 
feet, but they don't make any noise at all. 

I purposely have avoided mentioning the Elephant's 
nose, because he is so sensitive about it. It was not 
originally such a long nose — a little longer, perhaps, than 
the Camel's, but not really noticeable. 

Curiosity was what made it grow, especially curiosity 
about where his Mother kept the peanuts, cookies 
doughnuts and jam. I suppose there never was a child 
who was as curious about such matters as this baby 
Elephant — which after all is very fortunate, indeed, for 
us. 

"That is all the stories for the day," said the Teacher, 
dismissing the school. "Be careful in going down the 
rainbow." 



(40) 



Johnnie Bob arose to his feet. The dampness had 
made the rainbow slippery and he began to slide. Faster 
and faster he fell. He could faintly hear the Teacher's 
warning voice calling, 

"Johnnie Bob! Johnnie Bob!" 

When he struck the ground he sat up suddenly to 
look around. He was back home again in his own back 
yard, and his Mother was calling him to supper. 



(41) 




(42) 



INDIAN MYTHS 



.<«) 



INTRODUCTION 

The human mind has in all ages sought a reason- 
able explanation for natural phenomena. The 
modern mind demands scientific demonstration, but 
primitive mind was perforce obliged to deduce a 
fanciful explanation based upon the supernatural, 
which was at least satisfying to his religious instinct. 
Such tales were handed down from generation to 
generation. Some of them, like the ones herein re- 
lated, were not readily confided to the white tres- 
passers on their territory, and hence have to this 
time remained unpublished. 

The following stories are founded on myths of the 
Soboba Indians of Southern California, with the 
exception of the one entitled "The Echo" which re- 
fers to the tribe whose hunting grounds were in the 
region of the Merged River. 



(44) 



The myth entitled "The Blue Lizard" is the Indian 
explanation of the curious fact that the Blue Lizard 
is found only in the region of the San Jacinto 
mountains at an elevation exceeding 1800 feet above 
sea level. 

The myth entitled "The Rumbling of Tauquitz" is 
the Indian explanation for the mysterious noises, 
coming from the depths of the mountain, which are 
occasionally heard. It may be interesting to mention 
that the rumblings of Tauquitz have been studied 
on the spot for months at a time by Government and 
University savants, but they have been unable to 
agree upon an explanation. 

In the myth entitled "The Lights of Elsinore" is 
found the Indian explanation for the will-o'-the-wisps 
that sometimes appear over the marshy ground at the 
lower end of the lake, and also for the small white 
flower which they believe grows only in that locality. 

In other myths the animals are endowed with 
human attributes and supernatural wisdom. They 
possess the especial confidence of the Great Spirit, 
and under certain circumstances hold converse with 
the Medicine Man. To this day, educated as the In- 
dian has become, when a question of great importance 
is before the council and its decision is preplexing, 
a conclusion will not be made until the Medicine Man 
has gone into the wilds at night and consulted the 



(48) 



Coyote, the Puma or other wild animal. When the 
Medicine Man has received a communication from 
the Great Spirit, through the intermediary of a wild 
creature, no Indian will dare oppose his mere human 
judgment against such an authoritative revelation. 

If in the translation we have lost the sonorous 
measure of the original as related by the Indian him- 
self, we have at least endeavored to follow his poetic 
imagery, and to preserve, through the medium of 
printed pages, a few of the beautiful legends of a 
vanishing people. 



(46) 



THE BLUE LIZARD. 



ONCE upon a time — a long time before time — an 
epidemic came among the Saboba Indians. The 
little ones sickened and died in such numbers that sorrow 
was in every wigwam. Mothers sat in silence staring 
with tear-dimmed eyes at empty papoose baskets, or 
bowed their heads in grief, wailing mournfully. 

The Medicine Men were helpless before this strange 
and terrible malady. Their charms were useless — their 
prayers unanswered. The death chant could be heard 
continually. 

The Chief called a council of the old men and in 
anguish they prayed together to the Great Spirit to send 
them a remedy to save the children. 

At that time the Great Spirit was very busy, because the 
scourge was abroad all over the world. Prayers for 
deliverance were arriving in great numbers, but he an- 
swered every one in their order by sending a messenger 
with the remedy. 



(47) 



When he finally came to the prayer of the council of 
the Sabobas there was not a messenger left. The last 
one had been sent away to a far corner of the earth, but 
the prayers of this village were so earnest and eloquent 
that the pity of the Great Spirit was touched. Some- 
thing must be done for the babies of the Sabobas, or 
the tribe would perish utterly. 

The spirit of the Chief's daughter had just come 
home to him in heaven. She was the sweetest child of 
the tribe — gentle, uncomplaining and obedient. She had 
never told an untruth but once — or possibly two or three 
times — and then she had confessed it to her Mother before 
she slept and had been kissed and forgiven as all Mothers 
have a way of doing. 

The Great Spirit realized that in this little girl he had 
a soul good enough to be his messenger. He must act 
quickly, so, reaching up his hand he tore off a strip of 
blue sky and wrapped it tenderly around the little girl's 
soul, then saying, "Go little Blue Lizard, and carry my 
remedy to the Sobobas," he placed her on a sunbeam. 

Down she went, straight to the village and visited every 
sick child, always riding on a sunbeam. Wherever she 
went the children recovered because she gave them the 
remedy of the Great Spirit wrapped up in the sunshine. 



(48) 



Her task being finished, the Blue Lizard desired to 
return at once to the sky from whence she came. She 
began to climb the mountain, but soon found that going 
up was much more difficult than sliding down. When 
she got half way up the mountain she was too tired to go 
further, so she prayed to the Great Spirit to send her a 
pair of wings that she might fly home to the sky. 

She rested on the rocks in the sunshine for days and 
days, but the wings did not appear. Then she prayed 
again, saying to the Great Spirit, that if it were not 
convenient just then to send a pair of wings, would he 
please send a companion for her to play with, because 
she was so very, very lonesome. 

The Great Spirit had not been really thoughtless of 
his messenger. He knew what was best for her, and what 
would, in the end, make her the most happy. He smiled, 
and reaching up his hand tore off another strip of blue 
sky, and wrapped it tenderly around the soul of an 
Indian boy, then saying, "Go, little Blue Lizard, and be 
a_ playmate for my messenger," he sent him down to 
earth on a sunbeam. 

He fell safely on the mountain, and soon found the 
little girl Blue Lizard, and they were very happy to- 
gether. When they grew up they were married, and had 
a large family. 



(49) 



Their descendants may still be seen scurrying across 
the sun-warmed rocks of the upper mountain slopes. 
They never go to the lower levels, but are constantly 
striving to climb nearer to the blue sky which they know 
is their home. 

The Indians never harm them, because long, long ago 
their tribe was saved by the Blue Lizard — the Great 
Spirit's messenger from the sky. 




(60) 



THE RUMBLING OF TAUQUITZ. 

ONCE upon a time — oh, long before time — there was 
a Giant named Tauquitz, who lived in a cavern 
near the top of one of the peaks of the San Jacinto 
Mountains. 

From his mountain top he could look out upon a 
great expanse of country. To the west were rows of 
foothills, between which were plains dotted here and 
there with isolated rocky hillocks; and still beyond 
stretching up to the horizon, was the broad expanse of 
the blue-grey Pacific ocean shimmering in the sunset. If 
he turned to the east he could look down into the great 
basin of the desert, where the wind devils, whirling and 
dancing across the burning sands, carried up in their 
arms, clouds of dust, making the outlines of the distant 
mountains uncertain in the haze. 



The scenery was doubtless beautiful, yet Tauquitz 
was unhappy. The fact is, he was lonesome. "It is all 
very well," he reflected, "being a Giant and having a 
mountain and a cave, and everything, but even a Giant 
wants a little recreation now and then. I need a com- 
panion — some one who will be cheerful and pleasant 
around the house." So he decided to take a wife, but 
as Giantesses, even in those days were inclined to be rather 
domineering, he resolved to take one from among mortals. 

His glance wandered across the valleys dotted with 
villages. He saw many maidens walking about engaged 
in their various amusements and duties, but nowhere 
could be seen one as fair as Mena, the Rose of the 
Sobobas. 

Determined to win her he descended the mountain 
gradually shaking himself down to the size of a very 
large man, and repeating over and over again — 

"I want to be mortal and win me a wife, 
And live in the mountains the rest of my life." 

Being in love causes one to be particular about one's 
personal appearance. Giants are no exception. Tauquitz 
realized that he was not dressed according to the latest 
stone age fashion, so, he slew a grizzly bear with a stroke 
of his club. After taking off the skin he wrapped it 
around his body and pinned it with an elephant tusk. 

When he reached the village and found the maiden of 
his choice he addressed her: 



(52) 



"Behold ! I am the Lord of Tauquitz. I love you with 
a Giant love. Marry me and you shall be my wife*" 

That was a rather odd way to propose, I am sure, but 
it was etiquette in the stone age. 

To this the maiden modestly replied : "Nay, nay, gentle 
stranger, it may not be, for Mena, the Rose of the 
Sobobas, loves a brave young warrior." 

"Consider well, fair maiden, for in two moons or 
maybe three, I shall return and claim you for my bride." 
So saying he strode haughtily away. 

For two moons Mena lived in alarm, for Tauquitz was 
known as a bold bad Giant and a maker of earthquakes, 
but her heart remained true to her warrior lover. 

Again Tauquitz appeared and said, "I have come for 
my bride." 

"I cannot marry you for I love my young warrior 
truly." 

Without further parley he seized the girl and made off 
towards his mountain. Her outcries aroused the village, 
and the men brandishing stone axes started in pursuit. 

Tauquitz ran on, and as he ran he puffed deep breaths, 
and every time he puffed he lifted up his chest, and every 
time he lifted up his chest he shouted : 

"I puff and I huff, and I lift and I roar 
I will be a Giant again as before." 

Every time he puffed he grew stronger, and every time 
he lifted up his chest he grew taller, and every time he 



(53) 



said those words he grew bigger. When he reached the 
forest he was taller than the trees. 

Tauquitz ran through the forest. The Indians pursued. 
Tauquitz pulled up a pine tree and whirled it around with 
such force that he started a whirlwind which blew many 
warriors into the air. 

Tauquitz ran to the hills. Still the Indians pursued. 
Tauquitz turned and hurled at them the thousands of 
boulders which may now be seen in the water courses. 

Tauquitz ran to the mountains. Still the Indians pur- 
sued. Tauquitz stamped on the ground until the moun- 
tain shook with the blows, and avalanches of rocks fell 
upon the warriors. 

Tauquitz ran into Dark Canyon and reached the en- 
trance to his cavern. He paused to defy the lover who 
was the only warrior who had survived his wrath. His 
taunting laughter echoed from cliff to cliff like deep 
rolls of thunder. 

The young warrior, fearless of the magic power and 
strength of Tauquitz, and unmindful, undaunted by the 
fate of his comrades, ran on calling: "Mena! Mena!" 

Mena, who was being carried on the Giant's left 
shoulder, reached out her hands imploringly. 

Tauquitz roared a final warning: 

"Go back to your valley, brave warrior before 
I shake down the mountain to close up my door." 



(54) 



Then he stooped and disappeared within the dark 
cavern. 

Still the young warrior ran on. He had reached the 
entrance when Tauquitz put his shoulder against the 
roof of the cavern and gave a great heave. 

The side of the mountain bulged out and cracked open 
with a loud 

BANG! 

A great landslide crashed down the mountain, blocking 
the entrance to the cavern, and enclosing the young war- 
rior lover in a great upstanding white rock.* 

The dismal moans of the imprisoned warrior may even 
now be heard in Dark Canyon on stormy nights when 
the wind comes down from the heights. 

The Indians will not ascend the mountain above that 
rock, because they fear the wrath of Tauquitz. They 
believe the young warrior still stands within it awaiting 
the time when an earthquake will open the rock and set 
him free to rescue his beloved. 

Mysterious rumbling sounds coming from the depths 
of the mountain are sometimes heard for miles arouncT. 



♦(Note: The rock — a prominent landmark — is now 
known as Sentinel or Lily Rock.) 



(55) 



Many wise and learned men have journeyed to the 
mountain to learn the reason for the rumbling, but 
they have come away baffled and unable to explain it. 
But the Indians shake their heads and are silent. They 
know the reason. Tauquitz is rolling stones around in 
his cave in anger, because Mena, the Rose of the Sobobas, 
is weeping for her lost lover, and refuses to be com- 
forted. 

And when the earthquakes come they tremble with 
fear, for Tauquitz is lifting and shaking the mountain 
desperately trying to break out of his prison cave. 



(56) 



HOW THE ROAD RUNNER WON HIS RED 
FEATHER. 

ONCE upon a time — long before time — an Indian 
went to the Chief of the Soboba Indians bearing a 
strange tale. The Apaches, their eastern neighbors and an- 
cient enemies, had secured from a burning mountain a 
wonderful new magic called Fire. The Coyote had carried 
it to them. This Fire which consumed dry wood, not only 
gave out a pleasant warmth, but had the power of mak- 
ing the corn and acorns, upon which they subsisted, more 
delicious to the taste. 

The burning mountain was in the Land of the Apaches, 
far beyond the desert, and beyond the great river that 
flows from the deep chasm. The Apaches would not 
give or sell the fire to the Sobobas because of the bitter 
warfare which had existed between the tribes for gen- 
erations. 



(57) 



The Chief called a council of all the tribe, and as was 
the custom in those days, all the birds and animals were 
invited, for they lived together in peace, and understood 
each other's languages. 

When the council was assembled the Chief addressed 
them, and in conclusion, said: 

"We, too, must secure this new magic called Fire which 
brings the heat of the day to the cold nights, and which 
Works a charm on food to make it more delicious. As 
our enemies, the Apaches, will neither give nor sell it to 
us, we must go through their country to the burning 
mountain to secure it. Who will be the messenger? He 
must be the strongest, for he. must swim the great river. 
He must be the bravest, for our enemies are cruel, and 
the burning mountain is guarded by venomous serpents. 
He must be the swiftest to bring the fire while a spark 
still burns. Who will go?" 

There was much talking among the braves, but each had 
an excuse to offer. 

Then the Chief addressed the animals: "Man is not 
equal to the task. Among the animals many are brave 
and sagacious. Who will go ?" 

All eyes were turned toward the Lion. 

The Lion lifted his chin from his outstretched paws, 
and flicked his tail nervously. "I like my food raw," he 
roared. "My mane keeps me warm." His roar changed 
to a whine as he added, "And I just know I am going to 
be afraid of fire." 



(58) 



The Dog was called upon. "I am a friend of Man," 
he barked, wagging his tail, "and I like the idea of cooked 
food. If Man will come with me I will do my best, but 
I will be too lonesome to go alone." 

The Bear was exempted because he had flat feet, and 
several animals of a retiring nature, who suffered from 
nervous chilliness of the pedal extremities. 

Then the council turned to the birds, and called for 
the Eagle. 

The Eagle flapped his wings, and swept the council 
with a glance of his fearless eyes. "I am a public spirited 
bird," he screamed, "and this fire may be a good thing for 
the people, but I am a mountain bird. I would be lost 
in the desert ; therefore I beg to be excused." 

The Dove begged to be excused because he was a bird 
of peace. Fighting was quite abhorrent to him, and be- 
sides, he was just married, and preferred to stay at 
home to bill and coo. 

The Owl contended that he was a bird of wisdom much 
needed in council. He preferred a desk position. 

The Chief was in despair. "Is no man, beast or bird 
brave enough to bring the fire?" 

Into the circle walked a lean, brown bird of sprightly 
demeanor. He was a handsome bird. His head was erect, 
and his tail feathers stood up like a teapot handle. His 
legs were long and thin. He was especially proud of 
his legs. He was a Road Runner — and still is, for that 
matter. 



(59) 








f60> 



"I will bring the fire," he said in a steady voice. "I 
may not be wise or famous, but I am spry on my feet. 
I am at home on the desert, and I know how to fight the 
snakes. I will bring the fire." 

Loud and prolonged cheering followed this announce- 
ment. 

After a few words of thanks and advice from the 
Chief, the Road Runner started on his dangerous journey. 
He ran easily and swiftly with lowered head. In a few 
hours he entered the desert — a sandy waste, quivering with 
heat, and barren of verdure excepting for an occasional 
cactus and a few thorny bushes. At long intervals he 
passed small water courses with a thin fringe of willows 
and a narrow strip of cultivated land where the desert 
Indians made their homes. They paid no attention to 
him, for he was only a Road Runner, all bones, pride 
and feathers, and too tough to eat. 

When he reached the Great River he sat down to rest 
his aching legs, and to gaze at the broad waters rushing 
swiftly toward the Sea. He had never seen such a large 
river. It was far too wide for him to fly across, and he 
was a poor swimmer. How was he to get over ? 

While considering the question he heard the sharp 
rattle of his hereditary enemy — the Rattle Snake. Guided 
by the sound he soon came upon the snake, who, having 
found the nest of a Wild Goose, was about to devour the 
eggs. The Road Runner attacked at once. When the 
snake turned and glided away, the Goose, having re- 
turned and witnessed the fight, wept for joy. 



"Thank you, thank you," she repeated in a quacking 
voice, the tears streaming down her bill. "What can a 
Goose do to show her gratitude and repay your kindness ?" 

"Are you a good swimmer?" 

"I may not be swift, but I am strong and considered 
graceful in the water." 

"Will you carry me across the river?" 

"I will, and bring you back too. It is a small service 
to offer one who has saved my home." 

"It will be a great favor to me." 

The Goose waddled into the water and the Road Run- 
ner clambered on her broad back. In a short time he 
was across the river, and having thanked the Goose, went 
racing away toward the burning mountain whose smok- 
ing cone could be seen in the distance. 

When he began to ascend the mountain he entered the 
region of the Snakes. He had not proceeded far when 
he was challenged by a huge Rattler who coiled into his 
fighting position and shook the rattles on the end of his 
tail defiantly. 

The Road Runner seized a piece of thorny cactus in 
his bill and laid it in front of the Snake. Then he found 
another and laid it beside the first one ; then another, and 
another until he had made a circle completely around the 
Snake. 

The trap thus being laid, the Road Runner stood at a 
safe distance in front of the Snake and jeered at him, 
saying bitter and taunting things, and daring him to 
strike. 



The Snake became more and more angry until, being 
unable to control his fury, lunged full length at his 
tormenter. 

The Road Runner having expected this, stopped 
lightly to one side, and the Snake came down with a 
hard thump on the ground impaling his neck on one of 
the sharp thorns. Before he could extricate himself the 
Road Runner had finished the fight by driving his beak 
into the Snake's head. 

A short distance beyond he was stopped by another 
Snake whom he fought and conquered in the same way. 
All day long he was carrying cactus and fighting Snakes, 
until at evening when he reached the fire at the top of 
the mountain he was exhausted but triumphant. 

As he looked at the fire he remembered with regret 
that he had brought nothing to carry the fire in. 

All night long he pondered over the question of how 
he was to carry the fire. 

Early the next morning he was ready to return. He 
had the fire. And where do you suppose he carried it? 
You will never guess, so I will have to tell you. He had 
it concealed among the feathers of his ear. 

He ran down the mountain to the river. The Goose 
carried him across. He raced over the desert, and over 
the hills and never stopped until he reached the council 
place. 

There he shook his head over a pile of dry leaves. Out 
dropped a spark. The leaves blazed up. Little sticks 



(63) 



were piled on, then bigger sticks, then big logs. That 
bonfire was the first council fire of the Indians. Around 
it they learned to parch corn and roast acorns — the first 
lesson in cooking food. 

The Road Runner was praised and thanked. The Chief 
announced that, as a medal of valor he should always 
wear in his ear the single feather that had been scorched 
red by the fire, and promised that he would always be 
protected by man. 

That was ages, and ages ago, but even to this day there 
are laws to protect the Road Runner, and anyone harm- 
ing him may be severely punished. 

His principal occupation now is killing Snakes, but ex- 
perience has taught him discretion, and he prefers to 
attack while they sleep. 

For amusement he likes to run in the middle of the 
road ahead of automobiles. 

If you should be able to catch one, which I very much 
doubt, examine the feathers around his ear. You will 
find concealed there a single small feather of the bright 
red color of fire. 



(64) 



THE PRINCE OF PLENTY. 

Mahalla, daughter of the Chief of the Sobobas, sat 
before her tepee playing with her pets, a Coyote kitten 
and a young Rabbit. 

"My daughter," said the Chief, "again I say you must 
choose a husband. You have scorned the suitors of our 
tribe. You have driven away the son of the Chief of 
the Cahuillas. Now have I brought the son of the Chief 
of the Cocopahs. Him shall you marry." 

Mahalla glanced at the young man, but shook her head 
sadly. "No, Father, my heart goes not out to meet him. 
I am young. Give me yet a little more time to play with 
my wild animal friends." 

"It is time you should marry," said her Father, and 
withdrew. 

Mahalla arose and sought the tent of the old Medicine 
Man. She entered and dropped the curtain of deer skin. 

The Medicine Man was old, wrinkled and decrepit, yet 
kind and very wise in the ways of the animals. 

"Tonight shall it be, Father?" 

"Aye, my daughter. Tonight when the moon is full 
you shall learn the ways of the Rabbit." 



(65) 



That night, when the village was still, and the people 
deep in sleep, Mahalla stole from her tepee. Joining 
the old Medicine Man they went together to the plain. 
Threading their way among the clumps of sage brush they 
finally reached an elevation of sand. The odor of the 
sage was in the air, the grey-green of the foliage was 
changed to silver by the moonlight. The stars twinkled 
in an azure dome. 

"This, as I have told you before," continued the Medi- 
cine Man, "is the call for the wolf; this for the Puma; 
this for the Fox." Each he demonstrated with a call 
made in a low tone for her ear only. "Tonight we will 
converse with the Rabbit — a modest and kind-hearted 
animal well worthy of your friendship." 

Forming a funnel with his hands before his face the 
old man gave a peculiar call. Three times he repeated 
it. Then from the shadows of the mesquite thickets, 
from the groves of cottonwoods along the river bed, from 
the fields of sage surrounding them came the Rabbits 
with long and graceful leaps — Jack Rabbits, Brush Rab- 
bits and Cottontails. As they arrived they flopped their 
ears in salutation and sat on their haunches. 

When the circle was complete the Medicine Man ad- 
dressed them. "Behold, I have brought you a new friend — 
the Princess of the Sobobas. She will love you and care 
for you as I have done. I am an old man, my joints 
stiffen. The Princess will help you when I am gone." 
The Rabbits bowed and flopped their ears. "But tell 



(66) 



me," continued the Medicine Man, "how fares it this 
season with the Rabbits?" 

"Badly, very badly," replied an old grey Jack Rabbit. 
"See, we are thin and weak. Seeds and berries are scarce 
this season. We hunt for days to find a small amount." 

"That is bad. I am so sorry," said the Princess in a 
sympathetic voice, "tomorrow I will search the hills and 
plains and wherever I find wild food I will blaze a tree 
that you may see it from a distance. Every day I will 
search and leave a sign wherever I find the favorite food 
of Rabbits." 

"Mahalla is our friend," the Rabbits agreed. "We will 
tell the other animals of the good Mahalla." 

The next night the Medicine Man introduced the 
Princess to the Coyotes. They were much in need of wild 
carrots. Mahalla promised to hunt for them and to leave 
her sign where they could be found. 

On other nights she was made acquainted with the 
Pumas. They complained of the shortage of roots and 
berries. Mahalla would help them find fields where the 
berries grew more plentifully. 

Through the teachings of the wise old Medicine Man 
Mahalla became learned in the language of the wild 
things. She became the friend of them all. They would 
come at her call. Their food supplies were marked by 
signs which they understood and so they were able to 
live through the lean year in comparative comfort. 

Again her Father conversed with her on the subject 
of her marriage. "You must choose a husband," he 



(67) 



said. "Tomorrow you shall meet the Chief of the Yumas, 
and the Chief of the Hopi. They are great Chiefs 
and they sue for your hand. Choose between them. 
Time passes. I grow old. Before I die I would see my 
daughter's son, who will some day be Chief of the 
Sobobas. My line must live. Its fate is in your hands." 

"Father, I understand. Tomorrow I will choose a 
husband." 

On the next day Mahalla met the Chief of the Hopi. 
He was small. He was thin. His smile was continuous 
and vacant. Him, she decided, she could not wed. 

She met the Chief of the Yumas. He was big, gross 
and fat. He was harsh and gruff. He was repellant. 
Of a certainty she could not wed him. 

"How then, will the Princess be suited?" the Father 
stormed. "One is too fat, another too lean. One is too 
tall, another too short. One is too old, another too 
young. Have done with such nonsense. You shall 
marry. Choose a husband worthy of the daughter of the 
Chief of the Sobobas." 

"Have patience with me, my Father. It is a grevious 
question. Tomorrow I will choose a mate." 

That night Mahalla went into the wilds and called her 
animal friends around her. When they had gathered she 
addressed them. "My friends, I have loved you and 
served you. Your intuition is stronger than mine. Give 
me your council. Shall I marry the Chief of the Hopi ?" 
A snarl of disapproval went around the circle. 



(68) 




(69) 



"Shall I marry the Chief of Yuma?" A fiercer snarl 
of disapproval. 

"Will another come — one whom I have dreamed of?" 
Purrs and bows came from the animals. 

The next morning as Mahalla was seated in front of 
her tepee deeply pondering on the problem of her mar- 
riage, she lifted her eyes and beheld a stranger coming 
down the hill in the pathway to her village. An Eagle 
feather was in his hair. His robe, rich, but much worn, 
was of an unknown tribe. His face was eager and alert, 
his eyes those of a dreamer. When their glances met 
his face lighted in a smile and he quickened his pace. In 
Mahalla's eyes came an expression of surprise, then they 
softened and smiled. Her lips parted in a sigh, and she 
held out her hands with palms up. 

The stranger approached and laid his hands, palms 
down, upon hers. Long and intently they gazed into each 
other's eyes. 

"At last I have found you," he said, almost in a 
whisper. 

"Long have I waited," she breathed in reply. 

"Long have I sought you among all the tribes, but now 
I am content." 

He sat beside her and, hand in hand, they conversed 
in low voices until the shadows lengthened. Then she 
arose and went to her Father's tepee. 

"I have chosen," she said, "my mate has come." 

"Who is he?" 



(70) 



"I know not, Father. I only know that he is my 
mate^-the mate I have waited for." 

"Send him to me." 

The stranger stood before the Chief. "Who are you? 
Whence came you? Where go you, and whom do you 
seek?" 

"I am a stranger. I come from afar. I go to all tribes. 
I seek my mate and happiness, or rather, I have been 
among many tribes, and I have found my mate. I seek 
no further. Here I remain. I have found her. She is 
your daughter, Oh great Chief." 

"And do you, a stranger, a wanderer, a dreamer, pre- 
sume to claim as wife the Princess of Soboba who is 
courted by the great Chieftains?" 

"I claim only Mahalla, my mate, by the right of love 
alone." 

"Mahalla is the Princess of Soboba." 

"Of that I know nothing. I only know she is my 
mate, and I am hers. The Great Spirit has so willed it. 
We know it." 

"Nay, bold stranger, it is not so. Begone." 

Mahalla, having overheard the stormy interview, hast- 
ened to her old friend the Medicine Man and poured 
out her story with tears. "Shall I leave my Father and 
my people," she asked, "and flee in the night to a far 
country ?" 

The wrinkled old man was silent. With his claw-like 
fingers he made marks upon a pile of sand. At length he 



(71) 



said, "I know not. The Spirits give no sign. The wis- 
dom of Man in such matters is imperfect. You should 
consult the wild animals. Tonight, at the darkest hour, 
go you to the counsel place of the animals. Go with 
love and with faith. Go wearing only your royal breast 
plates and the Girdle of your Soul. Call all the animals, 
They love you and will not fail you. They shall decide." 

Accordingly, at the darkest hour, Mahalla emerged 
from her tent and hastened to the desert place where no 
plant would grow — the counsel place of the animals. 
She called to the Puma, the Coyote, the Fox, the Rabbit 
and to all the animals and night birds. She called to 
the east, the west, the north and the south. They came 
singly, in pairs and in packs. There was a soft patter 
of padded feet as they trotted, leaped and loped to the 
circle. The wings of the Hawk and the Owl made a 
whirring sound as they circled in the air. The animals 
sat upon their haunches in a circle a^und her. 

"Hear me, oh, my friends, I love you, and have served 
you, and will serve you and help you for all time. Give 
me your aid and counsel now. My mate has called me. 
My Father opposes. Shall I abandon my people and my 
Father, and flee to a far country with the mate of my 
soul — the stranger?" 

The animals wagged their heads and counseled to- 
gether. 

"We would see the stranger," said the Fox, and all 
the animals purred their approval. 



(72) 



"I will bring him," Mahalla replied. "He will surely 
be waiting near my tepee." 

In a short time Mahalla returned hand and hand with 
the stranger. The animals looked into his face and 
whispered together. "It is the Prince of Plenty. Happy 
the tribe that shall hold him." They fawned against his 
legs and purred their welcome. 

"Tell me," said the Princess, "shall we flee together?" 

"Too late!" interrupted the Coyote, "the village is 
aroused. The warriors are pursuing." 

All the animals tipped their heads to listen. The angry 
shouts of men could be heard. Nearer and nearer they 
came. 

"Then we will die together," said the Princess, taking 
the hand of the stranger. "Death together is better than 
life without love." 

"Hear me, oh friends," said the stranger, "wherever 
our blood shall mingle together in the sand, that soil 
shall be sacred to our friends, the wild creatures. Here 
our blood will fall, and here will spring up the plants that 
furnish food to the wild creatures only. Plants that shall 
produce food abundantly so that there shall never be 
famine again for our friends. You, Puma, and you, 
Coyote, and you, Rabbit, shall carry the seeds and scatter 
them on barren spots and on hillsides, and wherever they 
shall grow that land shall be cursed for Man and sacred to 
the wild creatures, for nothing that Man can eat will grow 
with vigor upon it." 



(73) 



The lovers knelt upon the sand, clasped hands and 
bowed their heads. The warriors were upon them. The 
heavy war elubs fell and the blood of the lovers mingled 
in the sand. 

With a snarl of rage the Pumas and Coyotes bounded 
forward. "Go back to your people/' they roared. "Go 
back and tell them you have killed our Princess. Hence- 
forth there shall be war between Man and wild creatures. 
We shall kill you and you shall kill us. Tell your Chief 
you have killed his daughter and her mate — the Prince 
of Plenty — who was the mysterious stranger. Hence- 
forth the Indian shall know want and famine, but from 
this ground, consecrated by the blood of the friends of 
wild animals, shall grow strange new plants to produce 
food for the wild creatures only. Wherever those plants 
will grow the soil belongs to us and will produce nothing 
for Man. The Prince of Plenty has provided for the 
friends of his mate." 

In due time there grew from the blood-moistened 
ground three plants never known before— the wild buck- 
wheat, the wild barley and the manzanita. They produced 
seeds and berries, foods especially suited for wild crea- 
tures, but not for Man. The Puma, the Coyote and the 
Rabbit carried the seeds to the waste and barren places 
on the plains and on the rocky hillsides where they grow, 
to this day, producing abundant food for wild creatures ; 
and to this day there has been bitter warfare between 
Man and the Puma and Coyote. 



(74) 



THE LIGHTS OF ELSINORE. 



Theca was an Indian Princess, 

Daughter of the haughty Tondo, 

Chief of all the brave Sobobas, 

In the dim and distant ages 

When they ruled the broad savannahs, 

From the mountains to the ocean. 

Fairest was she of the maidens, 
Fairest of the comely maidens 
Of the tribe of the Sobobas; 
Tall and slender, lithe and graceful, 
Flashing eyes of midnight splendor, 
Laughing eyes, yet kind and tender. 
Braids of glossy raven tresses 
Fell like heavenly caresses 
On her sloping sun-kissed shoulders. 



(75) 



To her Father came the warriors, 

Youthful, brave and handsome warriors, 

Asking for the hand of Theca, 

Fairest of Soboba maidens ; 

Brought their gifts of furs and ponies, 

Gifts of gaily painted ollas, 

Laid their wealth of beads of turquoise, 

Laid them at the feet of Tondo, 

Asking for the hand in marriage 

Of his peerless only daughter. 

When the suitors came before her, 

Theca saw not one among them 

Who could cause her heart to flutter 

With the tender recognition 

Of the mate whom she had dreamed of; 

Would not listen to their pleading, 

Turned her face with scorning from them. 

Then came Palo, Prince of Pala, 
Straight and slender, like an arrow, 
Small of hip and wide of shoulder, 
Holding high his head, commanding 
With a glance of eyes where smouldered 
Hidden fires of love, which only 
His beloved could uncover. 



(76) 



When her eyes at first beheld him, 

In her heart there came a tumult, 

Swelling in her breast with rapture. 

Ran she with glad cries to meet him, 

Lifted up her face to greet him. 

"You have come at last," she murmured 

"The ideal of my dreaming; 

Long and patiently I waited, 

I have loved and loved you only, 

I shall wed and wed you only, 

I am yours and yours forever." 

"And you are mine/' he said, and held her, 
Close within his arms he held her, 
To his throbbing heart he held her, 
Pressed her, kissed her and caressed her. 
While the tears of love were falling, 
Souls within them both were calling. 
To each other they were mated 
When the things that are were fated, 
And predestined by the Spirit 
Ruling in the earth and heavens. 



(77) 



Hand in hand they went to Tondo, 
Haughty Chief of the Sobobas, 
Went to tell him the glad tidings 
Of their love so pure and sacred, 
Of their happiness so holy, 
Of their bright hopes for the future, 
Went with fond hearts gaily singing 
Of the blessings love was bringing, 
Went to make their glad confessing, 
Eager for the Father's blessing. 

Tondo listened while a tempest 
Gathered on his furrowed features, 
While his blood-shot eyes with anger 
Flamed within their sunken sockets. 
Then he rose in pride and passion 
To his feet, and flushed with fury, 
Crushed with cruel words the future 
Of the children who would love him. 

"What/; he cried, "a child of Tondo 
Mate with any son of Pala, 
Ancient foes of the Sobobas, 
Victors in an ancient battle 
Fought between our Father's Fathers! 



(78) 



Rather would I see my daughter 
Mated with a wild Coyote 
Than the Scion of the Pala ! 
Never while the sun is swinging 
Through the heavens shall my daughter 
Mate with Palo, Prince of Pala ! 

Then the lovers, sad and weeping, 
Bowed their heads before the Chieftain, 
Left the Chieftain in his tepee. 
Hand in hand but broken hearted, 
Wandered in the cooling shadows 
Of the sycamores and bay trees 
Growing by the sun-lit river. 
Butterflies were on the roses, 
Bees were gathering the honey 
From the flowers for their babies, 
Blue jays nested in the branches, 
Meadowlarks sang in their wooing, 
Turtle Doves were softly cooing 
Perching on their nests and billing; 
Creatures everywhere were filling 
Their short lives with love and beauty ; 
Yet, because of tribal duty, 
They, unlike the birds, were fated 
Never to be blessed and mated. 



(19) 



Years went by, but never lessened 
Love between the parted lovers. 
Theca grew in grace and wisdom, 
Sad and wistful was her beauty, 
Less of earth and more of heaven. 
In her soul a light was burning, 
In her heart a tender yearning 
For the love that was denied her, 
Yearning for a child beside her. 

Turned her holy Mother nature 

To the homeless, loveless orphans, 

And the children of her people. 

To her came the little orphans, 

Drawn toward her by the magic 

Of her calm and sainted person. 

Nurtured by her love and wisdom, 

Children grew in grace and beauty 

Of their bodies and their spirits 

Till her charges were more perfect 

Than the others of her people; 

And the Mothers watched and marveled, 

Saying the Great Spirit guided 

Her and guarded with his blessing. 



(80) 



Came a tribal great fiesta 

At the village of Soboba. 

All the neighboring tribes were gathered 

There to honor the Great Spirit. 

Tondo stood before his warriors, 

Panoplied in all his splendor 

With his sacred bear claw necklace, 

With his royal robes and armlets. 

Theca, Princess of Soboba, 

As becoming one so royal, 

Stood receiving the obeisance 

Of the Old Men and the Chieftains. 

Beautiful she was and queenly 

In her robes of rarest feathers, 

Girt about with strands of wampum, 

In her breastplates and her bracelets, 

With the royal feather fastened 

In her hair of midnight blackness. 

Grouped behind her were her children, 

Orphans who revered and loved her, 

Decked in feather robes and flowers. 



(81) 



Last came Palo, Prince of Pala, 
Now the Chief of all the Palas. 
Noble was his face and bearing, 
Royal were his robes and feathers, 
On his breast the royal necklace, 
Set with tourmaline and turquoise. 
On the scene there fell a silence, 
Silence and a tense foreboding. 
All the Chieftains and the people 
Knew the hopeless love between them, 
Knew the iron will of Tondo. 
Not a whisper broke the silence, 
Not a word by them was spoken. 
Waited they for sign or token 
That should pass between the lovers. 



im 



Eyes of Palo, Prince of Pala, 
Gazed into the eyes of Theca, 
Saw in them her true devotion, 
Saw the love within them burning, 
Saw the soul within her yearning. 
Theca looked upon her 'lover, 
Her's alone; she saw no other 
In that company of warriors. 
In his eyes she saw the longing, 
And the love that was belonging 
To her only through the power 
Of the laws of the Great Spirit, 
Foreordained from the beginning. 
Slowly walked they to each other, 
Slowly walked with arms extended, 
Eyes into each other blended, 
Drawn as by a mighty magnet, 
Magnet of the Gods and Angels 
Which no human power can sever — 
Walked they till their hands were clasping 
And their lips had met in kisses. 



Then the magic spell was broken. 
Tondo, Chief and King, had spoken, 
Spoken in a raging fury, 
Spoken in a voice of thunder; 
"Take the Princess to her tepee, 
Seize this bold young Prince of Pala, 
War shall follow for presuming 
To oppose my royal orders." 

But Prince Palo was not taken. 
Round his head his heavy war club 
Swung like pine boughs in a tempest, 
Beating down all who attacked him 
Till they lay in heaps and windrows, 
Like the drift-wood on the sea shore. 
Then Prince Palo left the village, 
Left with challenge and defiance 
Of the boldest braves to take him, 
Vowing to return and carry 
Princess Theca to the Palas. 

In her tepee sat the Princess 
Weeping while her cruel Father 
Scorned her pleading for his mercy. 
"You shall be," he said, "imprisoned, 
Separated from your children, 
Who, though innocent, shall suffer, 
Scattered wide like frightened rabbits." 



Later came a maid to Tondo 
Saying "Theca and her children 
Have been carried off by Palo." 
Then the loud alarm was sounded, 
Beating on the wooden tom-toms, 
Beating, beating, beating, beating, 
Till their weird reverberations 
Came in echoes from the mountains, 
Waking all the sleeping village. 
Beacon fires were quickly lighted, 
In the ruddy glow the people 
Ran about in wild confusion, 
Like the ants upon an ant hill, 
Looking into every tepee, 
Searching every nook and corner. 
Still the tom-toms beating, beating! 
All the people joined the uproar, 
All the village in a tumult, 
Calling, calling to the children 
Who with Theca had escaped them. 
Still the tom-toms beating, beating! 
Further ran the warriors, vainly 
Searching for the missing Princess, 
Loudly calling, "Theca, Theca!" 
Still the tom-toms beating, beating! 
O'er the plains and through the valleys, 
O'er the hills and up the canyons 
Ran the warriors bearing torches, 
Still the tom-toms beating, beating! 



Came at last the old King Tondo 

To the Pass of Granite Boulders. 

Looked he then on Minnechica, 

Lake of Elsinore the mystic, 

Where the gods have left their cauldrons, 

Springs of boiling mud and waters, 

Steaming springs with reek of sulphur 

From the underworld of spirits. 

Round the lake the mountains towered, 

Crowned by pine trees, slashed by canyons. 

Over them a full moon floated, 

Floated in the purple heavens, 

In the star incrusted heavens. 

On the lake the moonlight glistened, 

Glistened in a silver pathway, 

From the tules and the sedges, 

From the iris at the edges 

To the distant mountain bases. 



Silhouetted in the gleaming 
Moonlit mirror of the waters 
Stood the Princess with her lover, 
With her lover and the orphans, 
At the border of the water 
Where the purple iris blossoms — 
Stood like statues supplicating, 
Stood in prayer with arms uplifted, 
Supplicating the Great Spirit 
For assistance in their journey- 
To the village of the Palas. 

Loudly called the Chieftain Tondo, 
Called upon his men to follow. 
In his heart was hate and anger, 
"Seize my daughter," he commanded, 
"Slay Prince Palo and the orphans." 
With exultant cries the warriors 
Ran toward the lake to seize them. 



(**) 



Theca turned toward her father: 
"Hear me, Father, calm your anger, 
Lest forever you regret it, 
Lest in vain you shall repent it. 
Cease pursuing, stop your warriors, 
Be my Father, not my Chieftain, 
For the love you bore my Mother. 
Give your blessing on my marriage 
With Prince Palo, my beloved. 
For the stars that shine above me 
Shall not set until I wed him, 
Since the gods at last have led him 
To my side I shall not leave him. 
He has sworn, and I believe him, 
That our souls shall be united. 
For all time our faith is plighted; 
We shall live and die together, 
Never part again forever. 
Speak, my Father, bless your daughter, 
Or our souls will haunt the water." 



(88) 



But the Chief advanced, unheeding 
Of his daughter's tearful pleading: 
"Never shall my will be broken. 
Seize them, warriors. I have spoken." 
Then, too late, the Chieftain halted, 
Chilling horror came upon him, 
Loudly called he to his daughter, 
Called with anguish, vainly pleading. 

Out upon the silver pathway 
Of the moonlight on the waters, 
Sinking deeper- — ever deeper — 
Hand in hand as to an altar, 
To their wedding went the lovers, 
Wedding of their souls forever. 
But the song that they were singing 
Was the death song of their people, 
Mournful death song of their people. 
And behind them walked the children, 
Like the bridesmaids at a wedding , 
Chanting in their childish treble, 
Mournful death song of their people, 
Strewing flowers on the waters, 
White and fragrant bridal flowers. 
Thus were wedded Princess Theca 
And her lover, Prince of Pala. 



(89) 



When the warriors reached the water, 
Silenced was the mournful death song. 
Gentle breezes moved the tules 
In a sad and eerie rustle, 
Like the whispering of spirits, 
Spirits breathing o'er the waters. 
Came a chilling fear upon them 
As they paused to look and listen, 
Paused to listen and to wonder. 
Then the moon, as though in sorrow, 
Hid her face behind a storm cloud, 
Hid her face and sent the darkness 
Brooding o'er the silent waters. 



(»0) 



Then appeared a light uncanny 

Like a point of fire unearthly, 

Floating o'er the murky waters, 

Then another, and another, 

Till they equaled in their number, 

Theca, Palo, and the children. 

And they danced above the sedges, 

Danced above the whispering tules, 

Danced across the gloomy marshes, 

Danced as children dance with gladness. 

"They are spirits," said the warriors, 

"Lo their ghosts come back to haunt us I" 

Then they fled away in terror, 

Chief and warriors fled in terror, 

To their village with the tidings, 

With the sad and tragic story 

Of the passing of the Princess 

And the brave and faithful lover, 

And the orphans who adored her; 

Of the coming of their spirits 

Back in dancing lights to haunt them. 



When the people on the morrow 
Went to wail their grief and sorrow 
On the shores of Minnechica, 
There they found a strange white flower 
Growing where the orphans gathered 
For their death march to the water. 

To this day that flower blossoms 
On the shores of Minnechica, 
White and pure is the flower, 
Like the spirits of the orphans. 
And on moonless summer evenings, 
Over marshes and the sedges, 
Where the purple iris blossoms 
And the wind blown tules whisper, 
Dance the souls of Princess Theca, 
And her lover with the orphans. 

O'er the lake forevermore 
Dance the Lights of Elsinore. 



THE STEPPING STONES 

The Gods had provided the hot springs, 
Fountains of steaming hot water 
Bubbling up from the fires 
Deep in the heart of the mountain ; 
Hot springs for cooking the acorns, 
Fountains for healing the people, 
Healing the sick and the crippled, 
Bringing back youth to the aged, 
Driving out Spirits of Evil. 
Battles were fought for the hot springs, 
Only the strongest possessed them. 
Happy the tribe in possession, 
Jealous the covetous neighbors. 

Peaceful and calm was the village 
Under the wide spreading live oaks. 
Smoke from the tepees was rising, 
Women were grinding the acorns. 
Children were playing and laughing 
As children have done in all ages. 
Maidens were carrying ollas 
Filled with the steaming hot water, 
Gracefully balanced on shoulders 
Gleaming like bronze in the sunlight. 



Wateka, the Chief's only daughter, 

Sat in the shade of the bay tree, 

The pungently odorous bay tree, 

And talked with her lover, Katona. 

Whispered as lovers have always 

Of love, and their dreams of the future, 

Laughter at intervals ringing 

In ripples of music between them. 

Into the village a runner 

Came with the speed of the whirlwind, 

Came with a shout and a warning, 

Ran till he fell at the tepee 

Of Zantah, the Chief of Soboba. 

"Cahuillas are coming," he shouted, 

"The warriors of the Cahuillas 

Are coming to conquer or kill us, 

Coming with weapons to fight us, 

To drive us away from our hot springs." 



Then came the shouting and turmoil, 
Weeping and wailing of women, 
Calling of Mothers to children, 
Beating of war drums, the war drums, 
Continuous beating of war drums, 
Rolling a thunderous clamor 
Into the far distant gardens, 
Into the valleys and canyons, 
Echoing back from the hillsides, 
Calling the warriors together, 
Calling the braves who were hunting, 
Or fishing in valleys and rivers. 
The thunderous din of the war drums, 
The shouting of gathering warriors — 
The terrified wailing of women, 
Mingled their clamors together. 

Forth went the warriors to battle, 
Armed with the long bows and arrows, 
Spears and the stone-headed war clubs, 
Carrying shields made of rawhide, 
Brandishing weapons and singing 
The battle songs of the Sobobas. 



(96) 



When the Cahuillas were sighted, 

Stilled were the songs and the war drums. 

Silently forward they ventured, 

Creeping like snakes on their stomachs, 

Hidden by grasses and bushes. 

They fought in the ways of their Fathers. 

Fought with the cunning of foxes, 

With feints, and with traps for the ambush, 

Speeding the spears and the arrows 

Straight at the Cahuilla warriors 

Who were exposed for the moment 

In dashing across open places 

To hide behind tree trunks and boulders. 

No campfires were lighted that evening 

Unless as a trap for an ambush. 

So fought the valliant Sobobas 

With the intrepid Cahuillas, 

Fought for three days and fought bravely, 

Yet neither tribe won the advantage. 

To Yozo, the Chief of Cahuillas, 
A runner came bearing the message, 
"The Yaquis are taking the warpath, 
Coming to capture the hot springs ; 
Little care they who shall hold them ! 
Neither Sobobas nor Cahuillas 
Alone can contend with the Yaquis." 



(96) 



Yozo then sent to Chief Zantah 

A messenger with a white feather 

Asking a council, and saying: 

"The Yaquis are coming to fight you. 

You cannot win if we join them. 

Let us unite, and together 

Our people will live at the hot springs. 

United, no tribe dare attack us. 

We can defend them and hand them, 

A heritage, down to our children. 

Our sons and our daughters shall marry, 

But I, Yozo, Chief of Cahuilla, 

Shall marry your daughter Wateka, 

Wateka, the rose of Soboba." 

A truce was declared to their warfare. 
A counsel was held 'round the campfire. 
The Chieftains and wise men palavered. 
The terms of the peace were agreed on. 
The peace pipe was passed round the circle. 
Wateka was called for betrothal 
To Yozo, the Chief of Cahuilla. 



(97) 



Wateka was not in her tepee. 
Wateka was not at the hot spring, 
Nor sycamore grove by the river. 
Wateka was not in her bower 
Among the low-sweeping bay trees. 
The call for Wateka resounded — 
Wateka ! Wateka ! Wateka ! 

Wateka had fled with Katona, 
Fled with her lover, Katona, 
Scorning the proffer of Yozo, 
Flaunting the edict of counsel. 
Only her heart should control her, 
Only her lover should wed her; 
Rather the hazard of fleeing 
To neighboring tribes who were strangers. 

Into the night fled the lovers, 
Into the moonlight that burnished 
The sycamore branches with silver. 
The twinkling stars were above them, 
The world with its freedom before them, 
And true love was singing within them. 



(98) 



Over the pebbly streamlet, 

Over the sage covered desert, 

By thickets of lilac and heather, 

Hand in hand hastened the lovers. 

Lions and wolves and coyotes 

Looked in their faces and passed them, 

Passed them and would not molest them. 

Over the eastern horizon 
Spread the pink glow of the morning. 
Clouds turned to crimson and orange, 
Glorious ! Constantly changing. 
Then came the sun in its splendor, 
Drinking the mists in the valleys, 
Drying the dews on the grasses. 

Onward still hastened the lovers, 

Southward to safety with strangers. 

Round them the wild flowers were blooming. 

Hillsides were dappled with splashes 

Of mustard and deep golden poppies. 

Lupins of blue, white and purple 

Lay like a carpet before them. 

Violets, purple and yellow, 

Buttercups, lilies and iris, 

Paint brush, and primrose and wild rose 

Grew in a riot of color, 

Filling the air with their perfume. 



(99) 



Under a live oak the lovers 
Paused to admire the flowers 
Spread like a bright colored blanket 
Over the hillsides and valleys. 
Light were their hearts, little knowing 
The turmoil their flight had created, 
Or that, even then, their pursuers 
Were following close on their footsteps. 

Onward they went through the meadows, 
Over the hills to a lakelet 
Formed in the course of a river — 
A lakelet in winter and springtime 
That sinks in the heat of the summer. 
Tall tules bordered the edges, 
Water fowls swam on the surface, 
Wild pigeons cooed in the thickets 
Of cottonwoods, wild grapes and willows. 
Now must they turn in their pathway, 
Retracing their steps to the hill top, 
To circle the lake at a distance. 



(100) 



But hark ! There were people approaching, 
Shouting like men on the warpath. 
Shouting "Katona!" in anger, 
Calling "Wateka" with pleading. 
"Wateka! Wateka! Wateka!" 
"Surrender Katona, or perish." 
On came the men down the hillside, 
Baying like dogs on a fox hunt, 
Knowing the lovers were helpless, 
Knowing they could not escape them. 

Then turned the lovers in anguish, 
And prayed to the Guardian of Lovers. 
Lifting their arms toward heaven 
They prayed "Oh, Great Spirit defend us. 
Thou, zvho hast twined us together, 
Binding our hearts to each other, 
Do not desert us, but save us. 
Show us the ivay to escape them." 



(101) 



A rippling came in the waters, 
A tinkling sound like the laughter 
Of water sprites playing with raindrops, 
As up from the lake bed were lifted 
Stepping stones covered with mosses, 
Dripping with water, but forming 
A pathway as straight as an arrow 
To the opposite bank of the lakelet. 
Over the stepping stones lightly 
Ran the two lovers with laughter, 
But when the pursuers attempted 
To follow the stepping stones vanished, 
Plunging them all in the water. 

The lovers escaped and were married, 
And happily lived with each other 
For many years in a far country, 
Thanking the Guardian of Lovers. 

The stepping stones covered with mosses 
Appear to this day in the springtime 
When lovers eloping shall need them, 
And woe to whoever pursues them ! 



(102) 



THE ECHO. 

In a barren desert country 

Lived the tribe of the Wa-wo-na. 

On their plains was sand and sage brush, 

On their hillsides, rock and heather; 

Blizzards chilled them in the winter. 

Scorching winds in summer burned them. 

Like the country that they lived in, 
Grim and cruel were the people. 
All their lives were spent in fighting, 
Fighting for a mere existence, 
For the food for their subsistence ; 
Ever watchful for a foeman 
Or a serpent to destroy them. 
When not fighting with their neighbors 
They were fighting with each other ; 
Killing beasts and birds for pleasure, 
Not for food, nor furs, nor feathers. 
Little wonder that their natures 
Grew vindictive, harsh and cruel; 
Knew they naught of love nor kindness, 
Even love for little children. 



(103) 



For that reason the Great Spirit 
Looked with frowning down upon them; 
And, to show his dire displeasure, 
Beckoned to their unborn children 
To remain among the Spirits, 
Seeking not to find their Mothers. 

When six summer suns had faded 

In the snows and rains of winter 

And no children came among them, 

Chief and Old Men held a council 

To devise a potent Magic 

To appease the angry Spirits 

Who withheld the children from them. 

In the tepee sat the Council, 

Sat with bowed heads, sad of feature. 

I-pah, Chief of the Wa-wo-na, 

Drew upon his pipe of greenstone, 

Blew the smoke of the tobacco 

North and south, and east and westward. 

Then he spoke in weary accents, 

For his heart was sorely troubled : 

"Well you know our charms have failed us, 

All our magic is impotent, 

All our prayers have been unheeded; 



(104) 



Therefore, go I to the mountains 
To commune with the Great Spirit, 
Seeking wisdom from wild creatures. 
I will ask Old Man Coyote, 
I will ask the Bear and Puma, 
I will ask the wise old Night Owl, 
With the mournful voice, to tell me 
The commands of the Great Spirit." 

For a moon, Chief I-pah wandered 

In the forest of the pine trees, 

Calling to the forest creatures 

To give aid, and lend their counsel; 

But the forest creatures answered 

Him with snarls, and howls and chatter 

That their help was for friends only, 

Not for cruel, heartless people 

Like the people of Wa-wo-na. 

Came a time when the Great Spirit 
Heard the constant, patient pleading; 
Listened to the prayer of I-pah, 
Looked with pity down upon him. 
To a Grizzly Bear the Spirit 
Gave a message to deliver 
To Chief I-pah, in the night time, 
When he slept beside his camp-fire. 



(105) 



From the shadows came the Grizzly. 
Grizzly sat upon his haunches, 
Leaned his back against a pine tree, 
Then he spoke in human language: 
"I will answer, Oh, Chief I-pah, 
I will answer, I will tell you 
Of the will of the Great Spirit, 
Father of all men and creatures. 
Long your people have forgotten 
That all men and tribes are brothers, 
Kin of all the living creatures, 
Sharing equally the favors 
Of the Spirit, their Creator. 
If you wish to save your people 
From extinction — hear his orders. 
Lead your people to the mountains, 
To the distant purple mountains, 
Where the snow-peaks gleam and glisten 
When the sun comes up behind them. 
Let them cease their wars and quarrels, 
Teach them kindness to each other; 
Let them learn to care for children, 
Learn to love and make them happy, 
Joining in their games and pastimes; 
When he finds the parents worthy, 
He will send the children to them. 
He will send the children to them." 



(106) 



When Chief I-pah told his people 
Of the message given to him, 
Rose their spirits in rejoicing, 
Hastened they to move their village. 
Ponies dragged the slender tent poles 
Loaded down with willow baskets 
Filled with pottery and blankets, 
Mortars, pestles, corn and acorns, 
Dried meat, furs and all the luggage 
Of a tribe in its migration. 

On they marched for seven sunsets, 
Over scorching, sandy deserts; 
Through the sagebrush and the yucca; 
Through the tules of the marshes; 
Through the valleys of the live oaks; 
By the pleasant river borders 
Where the sycamore and willows 
Cast a cooling shade in midday; 
Over foothills; through the valleys; 
Up the ridges; to the region 
Where the fragrant breezes murmur 
In the branches of the pine trees. 



(107) 



As they traveled the Great Spirit 
Marked their every thought and action. 
What a change had come upon them! 
Cruelty had changed to kindness; 
Cheering words were passed between them ; 
Strong men helped their weaker brothers ; 
Fathers carried tired children; 
Took the burdens from the women. 
When a Bear Cub crossed their pathway 
Weapons were not raised against it; 
Fawns were passed and not molested ; 
Nesting wild Birds were protected. 

As they camped among the pine trees, 
Came a woman from the forest 
With a babe upon her bosom; 
111 she was, and faint with hunger. 
From their scanty store they fed her 
Of their choicest foods, and lead her 
To a place beside their camp-fire; 
Wrapped her in a robe of beaver; 
Cheered her with a cordial welcome. 



(10*) 



As the days went by the stranger 
Grew in strength, as did the infant 
At her breast, now full and ample. 
"For your kindness," said the st' anger, 
"I will lead you to a valley, 
Hidden in the mountain fastness, 
Where the Deer herds roam in hundreds, 
Feeding in the grassy meadows; 
Where the streams with fish are teeming; 
Where the corn will grow with vigor 
To supply your food for winter." 

"Who are you?" the Chief demanded, 
But the woman only answered: 
"I am she, who bears an infant, 
Sent to guide you, by the Spirit, 
Should you prove that you are worthy !" 



(109) 



Onward then the tribe proceeded; 
For two suns they traveled onward 
Till they stood upon a cliff top. 
Far below them lay a valley 
Of such wondrous, peaceful beauty, 
That they stood in awe and wonder, 
Long to contemplate the picati'j. 
Then along a narrow game trail, 
Made by Antelope and Bison, 
Deer and Flk and Bear and Puma, 
They descended to the valley. 

Round them towered cliffs of Granite 

Over which the rivers tumbled 

Breaking into clouds of vapor 

Where the rainbows flashed their colors. 

Through the parks, where Deer were grazing, 

Gently flowed a limpid river; 

Fishes leaping in the sunlight 

Broke the surface into ripples. 

In the oak trees hung the acorns; 

In the thickets berries ripened, 

Quail were calling, Rabbits leaping. 



(110) 



Quickly rose their huts and tepees 
In the fragrant shade of pine trees 
By the gently flowing river. 
Thus the tribe of the Wa-wo-na 
Took possession of the valley. 
Gone were all their cruel habits, 
Gentle had become their natures. 

Many moons had grown from crescents 
Into round moons, then had faded, 
Yet the Stranger-Mother lingered, 
Guiding wisely with her counsel. 
Strong and robust grew the infant, 
Only baby in the village. 
All the women vied to serve him, 
Love him, hold him and caress him. 
When he smiled, the passing dimples 
Drew their laughter and their kisses; 
When he cried, they feared a sickness. 
When a tooth appeared they marveled, 
As if teeth were unexpected; 
"Baby has a tooth!" they shouted, 
Every woman came to see it. 
When he spoke his first word, "Mother," 
All the women gathered round him: 
"He has spoken! He has spoken!" 
Went the tidings through the village. 



(in) 



In his willow papoose basket, 
Padded with the fur of Rabbits, 
Women carried him with pleasure 
On their backs about the village. 
Came a day when one young woman 
Ventured further up the river, 
Gathering the golden poppies 
And the Mariposa lilies 
To adorn the baby's basket. 
Past the Happy Isles she wandered 
Where the stream, in rills dividing, 
Rush and babble over boulders, 
And the quaking aspens cluster 
With their leaves all in a flutter 
At the kiss of mountain breezes. 
To a lake she came and halted; 
Speechless was she at the beauty 
Of the lake, wherein reflected 
Was the image of the mountains, 
Like a picture, though inverted. 



(112) 



As she knelt to drink, the woman 
Saw her face reflected clearly 
From the surface of the water, 
And the smiling face of baby 
Peering at her from her shoulder; 
"Mother, Mother," cooed the baby. 
From the mystic Land of Nowhere, 
From the air, the cliffs, the mountains, 
From the open gates of Heaven, 
Came the sweet voice of a baby 
Faintly calling: "Mother, Mother." 
Startled by the eerie whisper 
She stood up and looked about her; 
She could see no living being! 
"It's the spirit of a baby 
Calling to me from the Heavens! 
Calling me as to a Mother ! 
Now, at last, my prayers are answered; 
He is coming! He is coming!" 



(113) 



Thus she thought, and hastened homeward 

With a new light brightly shining 

In her eyes, and told the women 

That a miracle had happened 

Through the magic of the baby. 

"I have heard a spirit baby 

Calling to me from the Heavens, 

Where the lake reflects the Heavens! 

Blessed am I, of all women, 

For a child is coming to me, 

Soon a babe will call me Mother!" 

Then another took the baby 

In her arms, and ran with eager 

Footsteps to the Lake of Mirrors. 

Would the Gods in pity hear her? 

Would they lay a blessed baby 

On her breast, so void and aching? 

When she stood upon the border 

Of the mystic Lake of Mirrors 

Hope and fear swelled in her bosom. 

Was the spirit of her baby 

Waiting for her in the Heavens? 

Would it hear her, hear her pleading? 

Would it answer to her calling? 

"Help me, Gods !" she prayed, "Oh, help me !' 



(114) 



Then she spoke into the silence : 
"Hear me, baby, hear your Mother." 
"Mother, Mother," came a whisper! 
"Will you come to me, and love me?" 
"Love me," came a pleading whisper! 
"Come into my arms and nestle, 
Lay your head upon my bosom, 
I will love you, love you always." 
"Always, always," breathed the answer! 
"Will you come to me in summer. 
Winter, fall, or in the springtime?' 
"In the springtime," came the answer! 

With rejoicing came the woman 
To the camp and told her story. 
All the women went to listen 
To the spirit voices calling. 
In the village all was gladness; 
Songs were heard in every tepee. 



Loving hands were turned to braiding 
Papoose baskets made of willow, 
Or of rushes from the marshes. 
Dainty robes were made of Mole skin, 
Or the fur of Squirrels and Rabbits, 
Gaily painted, or embroidered 
With the feathers of the Bluebird, 
Redwing, Meadow Lark, and Robin; 
Brilliant colors, gaily mingled, 
Fitting wardrobes for the babies 
Of the women of Wa-wo-na. 

When the happy Mothers gathered 
In the shade of fragrant pine trees, 
With their papoose baskets near them, 
Prayers of thankfulness ascended 
For the many blessings given; 
For their children, for their valley, 
For the peace with all their neighbors, 
For the Bear that spoke to I-pah, 
For the stranger who had guided, 
For her infant who had tempted 
From the spirit land their babies. 



Then one asked the Stranger-Mother 
Whom they now called Yo-se-me-ta, 
"Tell me, Yo-se-me-ta, tell me, 
In the Spirit Land of babies, 
Waiting to be born of mortals, 
Are there names for every spirit?" 
"No," she answered, gravely smiling, 
"One name only for all spirits 
Who are waiting for their parents 
To grow worthy to receive them ; 
One name only shall you call them; 
Call them Echoes, call them Echoes." 



(117) 



(6 



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